


not your typical fly me to the moon

by takajima



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Existential Crisis, Gen, Hikaru is STRESSED, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takajima/pseuds/takajima
Summary: “Besides,” Takaki pauses, stepping into Hikaru’s space and giving the latter a sniff.Hikaru freezes, taking a step back.“Your blood type’s O. I’m not thatbasic.”
Relationships: Takaki Yuya/Yaotome Hikaru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: JUMPing Fic Carnival 2019





	not your typical fly me to the moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alchemicink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicink/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Holly ♥ 
> 
> I was quite determined this time to give you Christmas tree fic, and this is what I came up with! 
> 
> (I really hope you like this I tried my best ;-;;)
> 
> a big thank u to my 2 betas and the people who held my hand and told me i could do this ♥

Hikaru is not having the best day.

His code doesn’t work the way it should, so he stays for an extra hour in the lab to try and work things out, only to realise (after that painful hour) that his professor sent an email that morning about an error in the question. He’s late for his part-time internship, which his supervisor is understanding about, but he feels bad and ends up putting in extra time to finish troubleshooting one of their backup machines.

It’s late, and the lift in his building is _broken_.

Hikaru lives on the eighth floor.

When Hikaru finally arrives at his doorstep, he’s sweaty and gross. But the nagging headache that he’s been battling for days makes him fight his germaphobe tendencies, and he thinks maybe he can skip the shower tonight.

It’s also why he ignores the stench of blood that fills the living room, and heads straight to his room.

“‘Sup,” Hikaru doesn’t give any more as a greeting to his housemate, already deciding to sleep on the floor tonight. He has a travel pillow, he’ll be fine.

His housemate blinks at him, wide-eyed, a red blood-like substance dripping from his mouth. If Hikaru paid him any attention he would have noticed the fangs, but Hikaru has long already shut down.

He falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

When Hikaru comes to, he realises he had fallen asleep face-first into the travel pillow on the floor. The germaphobe in Hikaru is momentarily thankful for the clean floor he has, but that is also what keeps him awake despite every other inch of him wanting to fall back asleep. He sighs, unable to sleep when he knows that he skipped showering last night, forcing himself to get his ass off the floor and into the shower.

As he rinses the shampoo out of his hair, he comes to the conclusion that his housemate might be a vampire.

He’s met the guy a few times, once when the landlady came to sign his contract and sometimes when he has to leave early to use the lab in the mornings.

It’s not surprising that Hikaru barely knows his housemate, let alone his name. Takagi, was it? Hikaru doesn’t remember, he’s not usually the one who collects their mail. The only thing Hikaru remembers is that his housemate works the nightshift at the bar two streets away, and that’s only because he went there with his seniors at work for drinks.

He doesn’t really get the chance to ask the other about it, until three weeks later.

Logically, Hikaru thinks there should be a way to approach the subject without sounding completely offensive. He thinks about asking the other about his fangs, but that would be bordering on creepy.

“You don’t look like a vampire,” is what Hikaru says instead. In Hikaru’s defence, his housemate is rather tan, clearly defying the pale vampire stereotype.

“Excuse me?” His housemate turns around, putting down his coffee. His mug makes a clink against the counter as he sets it down, almost sounding offended.

Crap.

“Don’t eat me?” Hikaru tries weakly.

His housemate gives him a completely put out sigh and frowns. Hikaru shrinks a little further into himself.

“I’m not going to eat you.”

Hikaru wants counter that—he sees the red in his housemate’s eyes. He decides that it would not be very wise. “Thank you,” is what he says instead.

“But I really don’t stand for the whitewashing of vampires.”

He learns quickly that his housemate, Takaki Yuya, _is_ definitely a vampire, and is seven hundred and eighty-three years old. Takaki somehow has never learned how to make human food in his many years of existence, because he was turned before he could even learn how to. Post vampirism Takaki no longer needs to eat regular food, so he doesn’t partake. The only seemingly human food he eats are those blood sausages he gets from the international food store.

No wonder they’re always stocked with them.

“So you haven’t actually had human blood?” Hikaru finds this extremely hard to believe.

Takaki shrugs. “Not since the war ended, I guess.” 

It makes sense, because the war meant a whole lot of dead bodies, and a whole lot of blood. Hikaru shudders at the thought. 

“I get to keep my blood?”

Takaki hums.

“Besides,” Takaki pauses, stepping into Hikaru’s space and giving the latter a sniff.

Hikaru freezes, taking a step back.

“Your blood type’s O. I’m not that _basic_.”

They still don’t talk much after this, their schedules failing to overlap.

Still, Hikaru sometimes finds himself tossing a few extra packs of blood sausage into his cart when he does groceries. Maybe he continues to feel a little guilty at throwing his stereotypes at Takaki. 

He gets to wake up to coffee before his classes the next morning.

His team at his internship is finally done with the programming for one of the newer drones, and they go out for drinks to celebrate.

Hikaru tries but fails to turn down their invitation for drinks with the excuse of classes the next day. His supervisor doesn’t buy it, because he’s heard Hikaru bragging about his afternoon classes for the whole of next week. Hikaru doesn’t know how to feel about going to celebrate with all of them; he thinks he doesn’t deserve the credit. He hasn’t really done much to contribute – he’s only participated in the initial research and mapping stages.

He’s just an intern. 

They go to the bar Takaki works at, but Hikaru doesn’t see his housemate at all.

It’s a different guy at the bar.

Hikaru must have spent a little bit of time hovering around the bar, because the bartender who is not Takaki comes up to talk to him.

“Hey if you’re looking for Takaki he called in sick this afternoon,” not-Takaki tells him. 

Takaki being sick just doesn’t make much sense to Hikaru, so he makes the not-so-polite decision to leave early.

Something clearly shows on his face, because his supervisor doesn’t give him shit for it.

When Hikaru gets home, he doesn’t see his housemate in any of their common areas, so he gives Takaki’s door a gentle knock.

“Hey, you alive?”

He hears a very pathetic sound of dissent from behind the door.

Hikaru leans a little closer to the door. “I’m sick,” he hears, and then a fit of coughing.

He didn’t know it was possible for vampires to get sick.

Hikaru always has medicine stashed away for emergency purposes, so he goes to his medicine cabinet and digs out a few bags of various over-the-counter drugs.

“Can I come in?”

It’s the first time Hikaru’s in Takaki’s room, and he is careful to close the door behind him, keeping the light out.

Takaki’s room isn’t completely dark like a typical horror movie. He has the drawn blackout curtains, but in the centre of his room sits something that looks like a disco-ball, emitting light of various colours.

“Since when do vampires get sick anyway?”

“Since me,” Takaki grimaces, sniffling a little. He squints, barely managing to read the labels and takes a few pills.

“Maybe it’s global warming,” Hikaru muses.

Takaki groans, rolling over.

Hikaru still isn’t sure how he feels about vampires.

He decides that they aren’t as scary as cats.

Hikaru is having an existential crisis.

“Wanna talk about it?” He looks up to meet concerned red eyes, and back down at the shot glass set in front of him.

He downs it in one go.

Sometimes, Hikaru wonders if life would be any different for him if he stuck to art. He went into engineering after a long discussion with his father, and it’s not like he isn’t good at what he’s doing now.

But Hikaru isn’t the best.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.”

Hikaru vaguely registers Takaki making a noise of acknowledgment, but he doesn’t look up from where he’s sprawled across the counter.

“Is this an existential crisis?”

Hikaru flails weakly, still attached to the cooling feeling of the counter on his forehead.

“As a seven hundred-year-old man, I can’t give you much advice about chasing your dreams, but I can listen.” He hears Takaki say. “Want another?”

Hikaru hums.

“Do we have cherries?”

Hikaru frowns, looking up, “why would we have--”

“Found it!” Takaki grins, and it would have been infectious if Hikaru didn’t feel like complete shit. He gives the small plastic box a little shake. “I’ll make you an old drink that no one really orders anymore,” he says, setting the box aside.

“Aviation was made in the 1900s by a bartender working at a hotel in New York. Dry gin, Maraschino, lemon juice and creme de violette.”

“You know what aviation means, right?”

Hikaru nods.

“To take flight.”

Takaki taps on the cocktail glass. “Imagine an airplane flying through the sunset sky.”

“And that,” Takaki says, as he drops the cherry in, “is you.”

“You could be like this cherry,” Takaki says, dropping the cherry in. “Or you could suck it up and fly above the clouds.”

He takes the toothpick and stabs the cherry, setting it lightly on the edge of the glass.

“It’ll be worth it in the end,” is what Takaki says.

It’s a whole pot of bullshit chicken soup, but Hikaru believes him anyway.


End file.
